JAX (The Beckett Boys #2) - Olivia Chase Page 0,54

implemented have made all the difference. Dad’s dream is going to thrive because we adapted.

I told Aubrey she did a great job on the menus and the answering smile she gave me was so beautiful it made me feel happy to please her. I know she’s tried to find opportunities to broach the subject of Brooklyn with me, but I’ve avoided them as best as I can.

I’ve been tempted, far too tempted, to call her. Text her. Hell, send a fucking carrier pigeon to her. But maybe she doesn’t want me to. Besides, she’s hours away now. It’s not like I can pop over to her campus and talk to her. What good will it do?

Doesn’t mean I haven’t been debating taking a road trip, too. Just a moment to see her beautiful smile again, feel her against me. Even have her sass me.

The ache I feel for her, the loss I’ve experienced since she left, has been tremendous. Like a limb was cut off and I keep expecting it to be there. And every time I go to look, it isn’t, and I’m reminded of its loss again. And again. And again.

I wasn’t the man Brooklyn needed me to be. Not then. Maybe I’m not now, either. But I’m sure as fuck trying to be better than I was. Even if I never get a chance to show her. It was time for me to start waking up and taking responsibility.

We open the doors and flick the Open sign on, and a few minutes later, the people start coming in. Asher and I keep busy pouring drinks, taking food orders, and relaying them to the part-time college kid we hired who’s working on food prep in the back. Since we’re sticking with easy-to-make foods for now, most of it prepared in advance, his job isn’t that hard. But it’s been a relief for us not to have to fix it ourselves.

“Jax!” a woman calls out. One of our regulars, Colleen. “Come do a shot with me.”

“Sorry, not tonight, darling.” I wave her off. Drinking on the job was one of my bad habits—it had to go. All it’s done is allow me to indulge in disastrous behavior. I wink at her. “I think Steve over there wants to have a drink with you, though.”

Steve, a salt-and-pepper haired man near the end of the bar, gets beet red and shoots me a glare. But Colleen eyes him with interest, and his flush fades away.

I slide her two shots with a whispered, “Go get ‘em, tiger,” and she wiggles her way through the crowd to his side. Within thirty seconds, his hand is on her ass and she’s swallowing his tongue.

At least someone’s doing something right. I briefly smile then go back to work.

I pass the time slinging drinks, cracking jokes with customers. Then I feel a prickling on the back of my neck. Slide my gaze to the left and see someone standing and staring at me.

It’s her.

My heart stops then kick-starts so hard it feels like it might jump right out of my chest. There Brooklyn is, in the flesh, wearing a pale pink tank top and black shorts, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her face fresh and beautiful.

Our eyes connect. With stilted steps, she makes her way closer to me, peering around the bar, eyes unreadable. There have been a number of small changes over the last few weeks…I guess they’ve added up, now that I’m looking at it. We’ve done a little painting, a little cleaning.

She’s chewing on her lower lip as she approaches the bar. I can’t read what’s in her eyes. She used to be so open and vulnerable to me, and I destroyed that by being a fucking idiot. “Jax.”

“Brooklyn.” Her name is torn from my mouth, a plea, a prayer. God, I want to reach across the bar and touch her skin, and it’s taking all my strength to keep my hands at my sides. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m…living with Gail and Samantha.” She takes another look around, and I see something in her eyes. A flicker of emotion. “Everything is different in here.” She pauses. “You look different. And act different.” She’s been watching me with the customers this whole time.

“It was time to make some changes,” I tell her.

A customer a few seats down waves at me.

“Wait right here,” I say and go refill his beer. I keep my eyes on her the whole time, afraid I’m hallucinating.